“The reason I ran the cycle five times, Nihlus, is because that is the minimum number mandated by the revised Biodiversity Conservation Act to eliminate all contaminants. Zurael-2 is a garden world under the observation of the United Institute of Exoscience Studies, and they are very sensitive when it comes to…”
Nihlus subtly dialled down the volume, stretched, and yawned. The inside of his helmet fogged up briefly, to be replaced by an overlay showing the optimal path to their destination. Damn, quite the steep climb.
He shouldered his pack, pulling the straps tight around his cowl, and checked behind him one last time. His ship was hidden beneath a giant sheet of camo-cloth. Careful observers would never be fooled; even without the ragged holes, the cloth was only a pale imitation of the surrounding alien landscape, so bright and beautiful it made him want to burst into song. He was panting from creatively tying the cloth around every fin and strut of the excessively angular vessel, but one look at the rosy skyline reinvigorated him, filled his chest with awe, and massively improved the quality of his recycled oxygen.
Continue reading [60]
As the door slid open, Desolas wished fervently that the voices belonged to the plumbers.
They did not.
The man wore white and blue and black. The symbol on his cowl matched the one on the skycar downstairs. He was kneeling, and he had his back to Desolas. He had a tiny vial between his talons. A complex-looking machine sat on the ground nearby.
The woman wore the same colours, but her face was bare. In one hand she held what appeared to be a thermometer, and in the other, Saren’s wrist.
“You’re a precocious thing, but you should listen to her,” the man said. “Patience is key, remember.”
“The recommended exercises are all on the handbook,” the woman said gently, pocketing her instrument so she could clasp Saren’s hand in both her own. The scales on her right thumb were a different colour from the rest. “I’ve updated the community caretakers and systems with your new access level. Be a good soldier. Don’t make me revoke it.” She winked.
“I won’t.” Saren hesitated, and slowly winked back.
Continue reading [59]
By A. Harmon
The actual quote in the original form, with more text captured for context, can be found under the break. What follows here is a version I altered to make it more general and gender-neutral, because I was especially impressed and affected by the sentiments as they apply to my current obsession with War and Strife from Darksiders. I also cast one part as verse, because that’s how it sounded. Beautiful!
If all people loved their spouses as I love mine,
we would be a useless lot.
Or maybe… the world would know peace.
Maybe the wars would end and the strife would cease
as we centered our lives on loving,
and being loved.
…
I know the novelty will wear off, and life will intrude before long. But it is not the newness of love, the newness of us, that has captured me. It is the opposite! It is as if we always were and always will be, as though our love and our lives sprang from the same source and will return to that source in the end, intertwined and indistinguishable. We are ancient. Prehistoric! And predestined.
Image: Fractal flower by Luis-Bello
Continue reading From “What the Wind Knows”
War and Strife agreed to leave the past behind, but there’s one memory from the time of the Nephilim invasion of Eden that they both hesitate to give up.
Cover by ♥ Anjian ♥
Read it here or on AO3.
It’s been more than 10 years since a game (or anything else, for that matter) inspired me enough to write fic for it and I’m incredibly glad I stumbled upon Darksiders. I’m even more delighted, and still can’t quite believe, that my old friend and partner in crime, Anjian, is willing to row this tiny canoe with me. ♥
Writing this story has been a wonderful, unforgettable experience. I hope it will make someone else happy too. ♥
Click-click-click-click. I’m pulling the trigger, but the chambers are empty. My ungloved hand is too small to wrap around the stock. It’s slick. Why is it slick?
Still carry that blade-oil?
Oil and wax.
Definitely oil.
I moan, half-awake now. Damn, that was a hot dream. I gallop after it. Oh, yeah. I mounted his lap and we maneuvered into position.
If something interrupts us this time, I swear…
I know. He laughed. You’ll come first. I promise.
My eyes shoot open, heart racing. It all comes back to me. Oh, God.
Continue reading A Second Chance
